


FEELING TOUCHED

by Kikoiku



Series: HOME ALONE [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Creepypasta, F/M, Horror, Inspired by..., Meniton Of Blood, Mutilation, POV Second Person, Paranoia, Stalking, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikoiku/pseuds/Kikoiku
Summary: The following weeks you weren't really able to forget him. There's an itch clinging toyour neck, when you pass by the glass doors. The media banned him from theirtimelines, but you know he's still there, lurking, waiting for a chance.You wonder if he'll ever leave you alone.Maybe you don't want to know.An Original Work inspired by a Creepypasta found on creepypasta.com.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: HOME ALONE [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681237
Kudos: 1





	FEELING TOUCHED

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mr_mittelpraechtig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_mittelpraechtig/gifts).



Your boyfriend hasn't left you home alone since. There's always this feeling of uneasiness creeping up your neck when you walk by the glass doors.

Even exchanging the locks didn't change that.

 _Somehow_ , you think. _It made it worse._

It has been five weeks since then and it's February now and you feel like it has only gotten colder while the temperature says otherwise. The media have stopped talking about him, but you know that he's still there, in the woods, lurking. And you think your boyfriend knows, too, even though you don't talk about it.

But everytime you stand by the doors for too long he takes you by the hand and leads you away, onto the couch, upstairs, as if he can run away from the fear you know you both are feeling. He always stops in his tracks, however, closing the curtains – not without a fierce look outside, screaming things you cannot hear, but they seem to work, because there's no sign of him for a long time.

You can't get rid of the memories of last week, though. The night, when you had to leave you alone, because his sister needed him and you were afraid, but you understood, you really did – and when you woke up you went downstairs in a daze and your blood in your veins seemed to freeze as you looked at the bloody fingerprints on the glass far too long. And your bones whisper that you want to leave, that you want to run immediately, somewhere safe, somewhere unknown but you know he would find you again and he would do anything to get to you.

So you simply called the police, who searched your house and the woods nearby while you were trembling in your boyfriend's arms, because you knew the policemen wouldn't keep him away. And your boyfriend knows, too, you notice, for he tightens his arms around you, gritting his teeth.

You don't ever want him to let go again.

Now the days turned into an endless loop of the ever same day of caution, of fear and you wonder when it's going to be normal again.

And then you ask yourself if you were ever normal to begin with.

It's a night that's far too quiet for your taste, too peaceful. You are sitting in that cosy armchair of yours, snuggled deep into what feels like a dozen blankets. The TV in the background is running on mute, as the Kardashians continue to fight about something you do not care about at all. The book in your hands is heavy and your boyfriend is snoring peacefully on the couch next to you.

And though you are happy that he finally gets some sleep – that he desperately needs after staying up for three nights to watch over you – you can't help but feel jealous at the sight of him, because you haven't had a full night's sleep as well and all you want is to curl up by his side and sleep for an eternity.

But you were having nightmares that caused you to vomit for a week and they remind you of the watcher in the woods that touched your backyard, touched your door and suddenly you feel watched again.

Your eyes are drawn to the glass to your left – you can only see the upper half, however, since the rest of it is hidden behind the counter and you don't know if you should be thankful for it. There are some stars above the trees and a lonely, dark cloud is passing by the moon and it looks almost magically peaceful.

But there's this feeling and you think you can hear something rubbing against the glass and you desperately wish you had shut the curtains before settling in for the night.

It had snowed again the past few days, but stopped just an hour or so ago and normally you would've gone outside, building a snow-family and having a snowball-fight with your boyfriend until your stomachs hurt from laughing.

But not tonight.

There's a shiver crawling up your spine instead and the goosebumps almost start to hurt as they just won't fade away.

You hear something shuffling away and for a moment you hope that it was just your imagination but deep down you know that it isn't.

Your heart is beating rapidly and there's blood rushing in your ears and all you want is to reach out to the man beside you, but your mind tells you not to. _Crazy_ , you think. _Utterly and completely crazy_.

Curiosity gets the better of you after what feels like an eternity, yet you know it hasn't been more than a few minutes.

The floor is cold as your feet touch it and you almost flinch, but you desperately try not to – just in case he can see you. Because even though he knows you do, you do not want to show him how much you fear him.

Your breath comes out shaky as you take step after step forward, which takes you longer than it should've, at least you think so. Somehow the last few days have taken your feeling of time and you don't think it's a good thing.

It terrifies you.

As you reach the counter you cannot yet see the bottom of the glass doors but you see tracks that someone left while crouching along your backyard. He carefully tried not to attract your attention – or maybe your boyfriend's, you don't want to know. There's tears and a whine building up in your throat, but you choke them back down and keep walking, your eyes glued to the trees in the dark.

You want to cry as it dawns on you that he touched your house, your doors again and therefore maybe he can touch you, too.

A gust of wind rustles through the trees and you think you see something – _someone_ – moving, blinking at you and out of habit you twist your head to the left, reaching out to touch the frame of the door directly in front of you.

Your eyes fall down onto the snow, and you breath out faltering as you notice the red crimson blood and your eyes widen in shock – and you feel like someone is laughing at you.

Your eyes hesitantly follow the track back until it reaches your door. You take a step back and suddenly you forget how to breath, since there's a decapitated hand and a smiley of blood next to a note on the bottom line. And you know that you should wake your boyfriend, that you should call the police, should do anything but pay attention to him. But against better knowledge you crouch down to the floor, until you almost lie on your stomach, short of breath, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

The note's small, in ugly handwriting, barely readable. But you finally figure it out and your heart stops while your mind goes blank and a thousand bells start ringing as you read the words:

_It feels so nice to touch you._

And only then you scream, you curse, you cry – anything to wake your boyfriend up. You push yourself away, to get away from the scene, and then he's there, scooping you up, holding you in his arms as tears stream down your face and all the fear that built itself up inside of you breaks through, violently and ugly and beautiful. You cry into his shirt and are probably ruining it in the process but you do not care at all and neither does he.

You cannot see the way he watches the woods with hatred in his eyes while he whispers soothing words into you ear.

“It's okay," he murmurs, placing a kiss to your scalp. “I've got you. You're safe now.”

For the first time he sounds like he's lying.

This night he holds you closer than you're used to and you want to cherish it, because you know he loves you so, but you can't. Because you know that it's because he's afraid and there's something terribly wrong when he's afraid.

Because murdurers are never afraid.

And you cannot sleep for a long time for every small noise jolts you awake and when you finally do, you dream of foreign hands touching you and as you wake up again you want to scream over your beating heart, but you don't, because there's no one there when you open your eyes and you think you must be paranoid.

So you nuzzle closer to your boyfriend, to the warmth of his arms and try to go back to a better sleep.

You don't think about the space under your bed.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the 2nd part of the HOME ALONE-Series so far!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for the next ones!
> 
> (Feedback of any kind is always appreciated!)


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